


brave and also foolish

by flying_pupitre



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Camille - Freeform, M/M, non-canon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_pupitre/pseuds/flying_pupitre
Summary: “Is love war then?”“For you, Magnus.”“Fair enough.”





	brave and also foolish

They meet at a party, and then Magnus doesn’t see him for maybe three weeks. It’s the end of winter and Magnus is busy anyway. There are potions to make and problems to solve, plus this pressing issue of the Uprising maybe occurring again. He doesn’t have time to think about striking eyes or dark hair. Or lopsided grins and slightly sweaty handshakes. Magnus shakes his head, because that’s kid stuff, and Magnus knows he’s well past all that.

However, even the persistent threat of war, pulsing steadily underneath everything, somehow makes time for the strangest, most inexplicable things.

At least that’s how he justifies it to himself later while kissing none other than Alexander Lightwood for the third time in the span of five days.  

It’s the oddest way Magnus has ever started anything in his life, even for him. There probably will be hell to pay for all of this but that look of fury on Maryse Lightwood’s face that one time was a bonus he never knew he could hope for.

When he’s alone, Magnus studies his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s acutely aware of his heart, beating at more of a steady hum now but still making its presence known. Suddenly it occurs to him that he’s very brave but maybe also very foolish.

He sighs. He picks up the Chairman, wrapping herself around his legs, and buries his face in her soft fur.

“Let’s just say it’s a dalliance then.”

The Chairman meows skeptically, then fights herself free.

\--

Catarina comes around on the next Tuesday.

“You’re not really the type fuck around for funsies” Catarina says wryly, pouring herself some wine. “What are you playing at Magnus?”

“I’m not sure.”

Catarina raises an eyebrow.

“Sure, Magnus.”

“I mean he’s so young, completely inexperienced, shy, sensitive-“

“Ruthless, law-abiding, highly- trained demon killer.”

A pause.

“Tell me I’m being a fool.”

Catarina smirks. “Why say it aloud if you already know. Is it all part some greater plan to _penetrate_ the Clave? I mean, at this point what does anyone have to lose.”

Magnus laughs. “Never change Catarina.”

They gossip for a few hours that, some Warlock business mixed in there but mostly Catarina telling him exciting stories from the ER, including the tale of the ongoing hunt for the thief that keeps taking her power bars. When she stands to leave, she lingers in the foyer for a second.

“You know Magnus, as a community we tend to like to be on our own.” She hesitates; warlocks aren’t typically this raw or open with each other. “But I’ve always sort of knew you’ve never been that way.” Before Magnus can start protesting and list his happy years of solitude she presses on. “It- it’s oddly mundane of you. But. It’s also something I’ve admired about you. I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since Ca-.”

“Tell me I’m being fool, Catarina.” He says again, with the slightest hint of desperation, and a laugh so that he can easily convert it into a joke if need be.

But she only touches his hand, lightly, and then she’s gone.

\--

After that disaster of a first date Magnus doesn’t expect to hear from Alec again. It’s probably for the best, he thinks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs with really more force than necessary.

But Alec does call again, and a few dates later Magnus finds himself braced over a shirtless Alec, pushed back into the red brocade arm chair. It cost him a fortune and he doesn’t usually do this sort of thing here but they were tipsy and for some reason Magnus isn’t sure he wants to let Alexander into his bed yet.

Alec has his fists balled in Magnus’s shirt, undoubtedly wrinkling the expensive material but Magnus doesn’t care, mouthing at Alec’s neck, running his hands over Alec’s ribs.

Tattoos, strange and beautiful. Magnus carefully avoids them, kissing the stretches of skin in between, moving down as leisurely as he can manage. Like this, Alec feels human, _mundane_ , sprawled in an armchair, his armchair, eyes-lidded in lust and mouth slightly parted. But the tautness of his body, the corded tension of his arms braced on the arm rests, the firmness of the muscle under Magnus’s palms reminds Magnus this is also the body of an accomplished demon killer who perhaps saw the world as good or evil and trusted Downworlders as convenient until it wasn’t.

Alec’s soft moans bring him back, and he rests his hands delicately on Alec’s belt, and looks straight into Alec’s eyes. The thought will have to wait.

“Yes?”

For a second he thinks he can sense a flicker hesitation in Alec’s face, which then melts into an expression of resolve and maybe something else. Something soft. Quiet. Someone might have looked at him like that once, but Magnus can’t really remember.

“Yes.”

Magnus doesn’t waver, and deftly undoes Alec’s belt, sliding his pants down to his knees, and taking Alec’s length into his mouth.

It might have been a few decades, ok maybe five or something who was really counting, since Magnus had given a blow job but he hasn’t forgotten how it’s done. He kisses the inside of Alec’s thighs and sucks a little mark on the curve of Alec’s hip, hoping a little that Alec will forget to rune it away. Alec’s sharp intake of air turning into increasingly louder moans encourage him to shift closer, take Alec deeper. In his peripheral vision he can see Alec’s fingers twitch and curl into fists, maybe yearning to wind themselves in Magnus’s hair but Alec’s hands remain on the arm chair. Restrained. Polite.

Alec comes in a rush, sobbing a little. Magnus swears he can hear his name, but he can’t be sure.

“I’m so sorry I should have warned you I-”

But Magnus reaches up to touch Alec’s face because it’s fine, it’s fine it’s the first time Alec’s ever received a blow job whatever and honestly Magnus doesn’t really care because he wanted to. Alec goes still and it’s too quiet in room, creating too much space.

Magnus waits for Alec to tell him this was fun and all but also maybe a mistake and see you around but instead Magnus finds himself pushed down to the floor and Alec’s hands in his hair, tongue licking at his mouth. He parts his lips and Alec’s tongue _invades_ it, forcing a moan from somewhere in his chest. Alec kisses him hard, nipping at his bottom lip and Magnus feels so out of control, senseless. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed like this, like time was running out and everything had an underlying urgency to it. Alec presses a final soft, tender kiss to the corner of his mouth and licks at Magnus jaw and neck. Then he’s trailing wet kisses down Magnus’s chest and stomach, no tattoos to avoid. He’s unbuttoning Magnus’s jeans and palming Magnus’s cock through his very expensive Gucci briefs. Magnus can feel Alec’s breath, hot, wet over his crotch and he thinks this has to stop, maybe it’s too much, too fast and Alec is like… 400 years too young for him and he’s a Shadowhunter and there are steps you just can’t take back.

“Wait I- you don’t have to.”

Alec’s eyes are illegible in the shadowy darkness of Magnus’s living room.

“You don’t want to?”

Magnus draws in a breath.

“I want to.”

Magnus finds himself saying yes and Alec’s mouth is on him. It’s the first time Alec’s ever done anything like this, so Magnus doesn’t have have any expectations. But Alec watches him up through his dark eyelashes, and he makes these little moaning sounds in the back of his throat that send dark curls of heat through the bottom of Magnus’s stomach. It doesn’t take him long to come.   

His eyes are closed, but he opens them when he feels Alec’s thumb on his face, tracing his jawline in slow, soft motions. Magnus’s heart lurches a little when he sees the concerned expression on Alec’s face.

“Was that good for you?”

When was the last time someone asked him that?

“Obviously.” But he says it with a smile.

“Obviously.” Alec echoes back, lips cracking into a relieved grin, maybe a touch smug.

Alec stands, offering his hand down to pull Magnus up and then into the bedroom with an almost proprietary ease.

Alec is pulling him down next to him, adjusting the covers around them, tucking his head under Magnus’s chin like it’s always fit there. Alec falls asleep almost immediately, and Magnus thinks again like the first time Alec slept on his sofa, how in sleep Alec looks so young, face open and trusting. Like it’s never occurred to him that things like this don’t always end well, even if there wasn’t that immortal- mortal undercurrent to everything. 

He wishes it were the same for him, but it isn’t. Nothing is ever simple for Magnus. It takes a while for him to fall asleep; it’s the first time anyone has shared his bed in years and he’d grown used to the emptiness. Eventually sleep claims too. He’ll deal with it in the morning.  

\--

“What was your first time like?” Alec probes one morning.

This is a new game that Alec has been playing of late, asking Magnus more loaded questions, but only in the dappled grey safety of early morning.

Magnus doesn’t answer.

“Do you… um… not remember?” Alec’s voice isn’t accusatory but Magnus is almost offended.

Of course he remembers, everyone always does. It was during the summer, when there was no work in the fields and townspeople would congregate in the squares, entertained by live music rippling through the summer night. It was at one of these concerts where he’d caught the eye of a young lute player whose blue eyes and effortless charm made it easy to accept an invitation for a drink and then a few weeks later a private concert upstairs. It was as good as someone’s first could be. He told Magnus he cared deeply for him, and even though Magnus was very surprised he’d accepted it. Javier was sweet, gentle, and didn’t make Magnus feel like he was only wanted Magnus for his strange, exotic looks. But Magnus was young and stupid then, and in the throes of it his glamour broke. It was a long time ago and Magnus has forgotten a lot of it but he’s never forgotten that look of abject terror on the other man’s face.

The Inquisition was officially over but people were still somehow disappearing and Magnus just couldn’t risk it so he’d cast a memory spell, just to erase maybe the last five minutes. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one, one far too powerful so in a second Javier was slumped on the floor, catatonic and completely unresponsive. And that’s how Magnus found himself pounding on Ragnor Fell’s door at 3:00 am, not quite crying, begging him for help. Ragnor was tight-lipped and furious but he left with Magnus for Javier’s apartment. In the end they managed to bring him back but left his memories of Magnus behind.

Ragnor, to his credit, didn’t berate him like Magnus thought he would. Instead he’d patiently taught him the correct spell afterwards, and said nothing while Magnus choked out the correct words in between sobs.

After that Magnus learned caution. He became skilled in glamour charms and skilled in restraining his emotions. He fucked people he didn’t love so he didn’t accidentally lose control, until he met a vampiress who didn’t find his cat eyes beautiful exactly but didn’t find them ugly or terrifying either.

“You don’t have to say.” Alec breaks in, but Magnus can hear the edge in his voice.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll tell you. It was summer, and he was a musician. I was sixteen. As far as firsts go it wasn’t terrible.”

“But not good?”

“Complicated.”

Alec contemplates this, and Magnus thinks he’s going to fight him for a better answer but he only watches Magnus with that same, disconcerting look of softness he always seems to look at Magnus with these days. Before Magnus can ask what he’s thinking Alec shifts so that Magnus is underneath him. He leans down to kiss him and Magnus stops thinking.

\--

Magnus attempts to tread carefully. He exerts caution and even though he says he’s being conscientious of not pushing Alec too fast he knows it’s for him too.

But it’s Alec who shows up at his door one night a little past midnight, Alec whose hands are on his face, in his hair, insisting that he’s ready and he wants this. It’s Alec who coaxes Magnus’s body on top his, rubbing reassuring circles on Magnus’s back, whispering “I want you,” hotly against Magnus’s ear, making the little hairs on the back of his neck rise. His fingers, rough with archer’s callouses are inexplicably tender sliding along Magnus’s jawline, following the curve of his collar bone.

_You don’t have to, Alexander_ he almost manages but Alec murmurs, “Do you want this?” His voice is a little unsteady and his eyes are desperate, and just fuck, fuck it all because Magnus does want this and he’s decided he’s going to throw all caution to the wind.  

“Yes. I want this. I want you.”

Magnus, remembering that Alec is barely past that hormonal teenage phase, wants to be careful but Alec doesn’t, insisting he can take it and wants, no _needs,_ more. But Magnus takes his time anyway, because he has forever and he wants to savor this. He runs his hands over Alec’s body, catches his lips over and over again for another kiss. He wants to memorize the planes of Alec’s body, the way Alec’s breath hitches when Magnus finally wraps his fingers around Alec’s cock.

The moon is high when Magnus finally works a finger into Alec, then another one. His body is tense but his face is brave. Magnus asks him if he wants to stop and Alec twists down on his fingers, urging Magnus inside, like he’ll die if Magnus doesn’t. Alec is so, so tight and at first Magnus doesn’t move at all, just letting Alec get used to the feeling. When Alec shifts under him impatiently he finally starts moving, thrusting shallowly. He reaches down and strokes Alec’s cock, in counterpoint to his thrusts. Magnus keeps worrying that he’s hurting him but Alec’s hands are gripping Magnus’s biceps and his head is thrown back against the headboard, and he’s panting and babbling nonsense in Magnus’s ear. Magnus increases his pace, just a little, trying to hit that spot in Alec every time. When Alec comes he breathes out Magnus’s name and its enough to push Magnus over the edge too.

Afterwards he fusses over Alec asking him again if he’s sure he’s ok but Alec just pulls him into his arms and holds him till they both fall asleep.

_Don’t._ Alec had murmured when Magnus recoiled in horror, realizing his eyes were flashing that other worldly gold. He’d pulled Magnus’s hands away, and kissed his palms, then kissed his eyelids. _Don’t. Let me see them._

\--

Catarina figures it out first.

“I know you in love Magnus.”

Magnus starts, but his retort is flippant.

“How can you be so sure.” Not a question.

“I don’t know,” Catarina replies thoughtfully. “The usual symptoms, no? You’re cagier and distracted. And you wear that red glitter eye shadow more often. It’s your battle outfit.”

“Is love war then?”

“For you, Magnus.”

“Fair enough.”

\--

As days stretch to weeks he allows himself to be happy, if just a little cautiously. He waits for things to become predictable, as it usually happens in a relationship.

In some ways they do. Alec won’t eat anything with olives, and he’s not much for chocolate. He wants cream in his coffee with just a half teaspoon of sugar. Much to Magnus’s chagrin, Alec prefers efficient, tepid showers. Alec doesn’t mind classical music, but he’s not so much into Liszt, though that could also be because Magnus had confessed to making out with the composer once. Glitter from Magnus’s eye shadow on this t-shirt doesn’t bother him either. “I can magic that away-” but Alec blushes and pushes his hand away, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like enjoying the surprise of finding tiny bits of glitter later. 

At the same time, things don’t. Things Magnus takes for granted are continuously reworked into something new. For example, Alec’s humor is mostly sardonic, but around Magnus he is sometimes silly. He’s oddly delighted when he finds out Magnus is ticklish right behind his left knee and no where else. Once when they are lazily kissing on the sofa, Alec unexpectedly licks the tip of Magnus’s nose and subsequently bursts into laughter when he sees Magnus’s look of complete astonishment. On an unremarkable Sunday morning Magnus putters around the kitchen trying to figure out what to conjure up for breakfast. He’d asked Alec, and Alec had replied “I’d rather have you for breakfast.” Alec’s never said anything crude before, and Magnus honestly swore he’d misheard but Alec’s face goes from pale pink to a visceral red confirming to Magnus that he hadn’t.

Alec calls when he says he will; he’s stays most nights after they fuck. Maryse and Robert seemed like helicopter parents from hell, but it was clear they raised their son right. Alec throws him out of harm’s way at least twice. “I can take care of myself,” he’d protested afterwards, almost angrily. But Alec dismissed him easily, murmuring it was ok while pushing a stray strand of hair back that had somehow freed itself from Magnus’s battle-proof hair gel.

And it was ok, Magnus decided eventually if a little begrudgingly. Magnus had become so used to being alone and fighting his own battles that it had never occurred to him that anyone would ever want to shoulder his burdens.

With Alec, Magnus feels like he’s always on the precipice of something dangerous. It’s been forever since he’s felt this reckless.

“I’m still half- human. I’m allowed to do human things.” He says crossly to his daguerreotype of Ragnor Fell, now hanging above his mantel. Ragnor’s face, eternally disapproving, glares sternly at him. However, Magnus swears he can see the edge of Ragnor’s lips curl up a little in an almost smile. He blinks and it’s gone, maybe a trick of the light.

\--

Around the two-month mark Camille’s back, and of course because of the general incompetence of young Nephilim he has to be the one to confront her.

“A Lightwood?”

Magnus is almost proud of the elegant shock across her face; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression before. But it’s gone instantly, and she grins, making Magnus shift uneasily. He wonders where he fucked up. A lingering glance? Something he said? He was careful not to touch Alec in front of her, or give any sense of anything beyond a purely professional involvement. But Camille, for all her faults, always seemed to know.

“I’m happy for you Magnus.”

“You aren’t.” He’d managed to be calm so far, even diffident, but Camille always knew where the cracks were in his armor.

“Oh sweet Magnus, with your soft spot for lost causes.”

He actually remembered the first time she’d said that to him, nearly a century ago.

“Sweet Magnus.” Camille had drawled, voice thick and melodious, like the smell of nightshade flowers, sticky and sickly-sweet in the oppressive heat of the summer nights. Her eyes glittered in the half moonlight as she’d studied him, the ribbons of her corsets carelessly undone, pale skin luminescent. Her right hand rested on Magnus’s heart, gentle but firm, holding him into the pillows of the bed they’d shared.

“Magnus, with his soft spot for lost causes. Always putting the baby birds back into their nests, fixing their little broken wings. Isn’t that why you love me?”

She’d leaned down to kiss him then, sliding her tongue along his lower lip. A sharp pain made him see stars for a second and he realized she’d punctured his lip, blood welling up and starting to drip down his chin. “I won’t be one of them.” She’d hissed, her voice sharp against the immediate haze of the yin fen.

The memory makes him stiffen, and his eyes narrow.

“Don’t be angry with me, Magnus. I’m not saying anything you don’t already know yourself. I’ve known you a long, long time. Is he one of your baby birds Magnus? Or is it different this time?”

Magnus clenches his jaw, but says nothing. She notes this, and her eyes takes on an expression of sympathy. Her face has a warm glow to it; she’s recently been feeding. In the light she’s beautiful, and for a second he can see what she maybe used to look like once, when she was human. She reaches out to caress his face, and it takes all his self-resolve not to flinch away.

“Magnus.” She says softly, her voice compassionate, inviting. He knows it’s false, but somehow he can’t say anything. “Don’t you think you’re torturing yourself enough? Why do you do this, even though you know exactly how this will end. One day he’ll die, or just leave you for greener pastures in his lifetime. That’s the thing about mortals. And he’ll never forgive you. He’ll never forgive you for what you are at the core of it. It’s cruel, don’t you think? 

Magnus goes very still, and he can barely make out her words just above the sound of his blood roaring in his ears. Is it incanto, or is she being honest. He’s usually good at discerning between but this time he can’t be sure.

“You know I’m right Magnus, even if you’ll never admit it.”

“Don’t!” he shouts, finally cracking. “Don’t.” He says again, weakly.

“Oh come off it Magnus.” She changes tacks abruptly, bored. “You know for a fact you’re only capable of loving something you truly cannot have. You’re addicted to it. You wanted to save me so badly, didn’t you? And yet it was never enough.”

Later, after he’d banished her to Idris, he finds himself slumped on the ground unable to cry, dry heaving for an hour in the foyer just inside his door.

She’s couldn’t possibly be right but maybe she’s not completely wrong either. He thinks of Alec, standing somewhere between him and Hell, his Angel blood and his righteousness.

See the thing is, Magnus is half- human, but also half- demon, and the demon is like a trapped animal that would gnaw off it’s own foot to escape a trap. And he can’t force Alec along for that ride. Camille was right about one thing. There was always a chance Alec would never forgive him.

\--

“Is this the part where you break up with me.”

It was Thursday and Magnus had been re- ordering his werewolf claws. He’s shocked but he tries not to let it show, slowly placing the jar back on the shelf before turning to face Alec.

Alec’s eyes flicker up to meet his, face tight and body drawn. Alec’s sitting at his table, reading over reports he has to submit to the Clave in the morning. He folds his hands, unfolds them, and finally settles on folding them again.

“I’m not foolish, Magnus. You’ve been so odd this entire week. Like you are always somewhere else.” Alec says.

Magnus says nothing. Therein perhaps was Alexander Lightwood’s greatest flaw, or maybe asset. He always said exactly that was on his mind, and was unable to soften his thoughts or feelings. Unlike Magnus.

“You should be with someone better. I’m not exactly someone anyone should ever-”

“That’s not true.” Alec snaps.

“Alexander, you couldn’t possibly-”

“Understand? Why? Because I’m young and naïve and whatever else you are telling yourself to justify this.” He’s standing now, body in that stance not dissimilar to the one he takes in combat.

Magnus knows he wants an explanation. He thinks about launching into some diatribe about the immortality thing or the angel demon thing but it sounds so stupid and insincere. So he pieces his words together as carefully as he can, giving just the bare minimum.

“This can’t end well. You have to understand that.”

That was the best he could come up with?

It looks like Alec isn’t buying it either. But what else was there to say. That at best Magnus was a coward and at worst literal hell spawn? Magnus thinks he’s going to raise his voice, but he doesn’t.

A step and Alec’s in front of him. He doesn’t touch him but he places himself in Magnus’s space, daring him to retreat. His eyes go from angry to that soft look Magnus has come to realize he only ever uses on him.

“You can love me. You know that, don’t you? I- I know you think you shouldn’t. But you can. I know you think you’re selfish and you don’t deserve it but that’s just it, I’ve already chosen you. And I can’t change my mind. If you want this I won’t fight it, but you don’t get to wake up one day and decide what you think is right for me.”

His eyes catch Magnus’s, holding them steadily. Magnus feels so many things boil up in his chest. Everything, everything. The years crash down on him and he feels so, so tired. It’s the demon again, trying to claw itself free. Return to the safety of solitude, protect its stupid black heart. But he looks at Alec. Alec, his body usually so strong but hunched ever so slightly at the shoulder, the only hint he’s willing to give Magnus. He stares at the table, Alec’s papers strewn over it, his jacket carelessly draped over a chair. The coffee cup Alec appropriated the first morning he spent, the linger of his cologne on everything Magnus owns.

“I’ll just let-“ and he turns towards the door.

But Magnus catches his arm, like those many times Alec has caught his over and over.

“Don’t.”

Alec’s face is unreadable. They stand like that for a few moments, the silence thick around them. Magnus is carefully looking down, unwilling to meet Alec’s eyes. He slides his hand down Alec’s arm, and lets it come to finally squeeze Alec’s hand. After what feels like an eternity Alec squeezes back.

“You can change your mind, Alexander.”

 Alec lets out a soft breath that sounds like something between a laugh and sob. He hmms a little.

“It seems unlikely.”

\--

In June Alec starts leaving things around the apartment, first the proverbial toothbrush, then a hairbrush and a spare shirt and Magnus doesn’t even say anything. He knows they’ve already crossed the point of no return and regardless of what he said or did his heart was Alec’s to do with as he pleased.

That’s what it was, he dimly realizes when he’s rearranging the furniture of his balcony in a fit of boredom. He leans on the railing, watching the city move and he wonders how many people are whispering together with their lovers, brave and also foolish.  

Alec said it first, but Magnus said it back, because he’s tired of fighting it and because he means it.

He does love him. 

He loves the way Alec picks up Madzie, swinging her around and making her shriek with delight. He loves how he snarks at Clary, and even if it’s a little mean it’s still pretty funny. He loves that Alec _is_ ruthless and law-abiding but he’ll break every rule if it means Magnus is safe. He loves the way Alec twists over his shoulder to catch Magnus’s lips when they fuck; that kiss Alec always presses to the base of his neck when Alec fucks him. Alec can be abrasive and jealous and he makes mistakes but Magnus forgives him because he can.

And he thinks, he _knows_ , none of this can end well because in his wisdom it never does. His eyes suddenly catch Alec, emerging from the mouth of the metro, face serious and focused as always, working through some problem or another. Even though its impossible from this angle, he seems to sense Magnus watching him, because he breaks into this insanely happy grin which chokes Magnus’s heart because Magnus knows that smile could only be for him.

It feels like fate, something preordained by a higher power. And even Magnus, with his demon blood and general skepticisms of anything holy or prophetic, can’t ignore the pull of something like that. He can believe, if just for a second, that he may just get that end all be all he didn’t even realize he’d been seeking. 

Sometimes he wishes it didn’t take him so long to get here and he would contemplate it further if he could but there’s that sound of the key in the door letting him know that Alec’s home.

 

 

End.


End file.
